too cold, too warm.

my scarf is curled tight round the end-posts of my bedin some strange and lost limbo between winter and spring wherethe weather's too warm to keep the cold out, but still too cold within.

and now the sun is peeking out and blazing through the glassy air,and the daffodils now echo the winter bold bright sky,and the bluebells are out and bowing on the lawn,

but the branches of the trees still stretch out stick thin,dead and uncovered and touched, unprotected and freely,by siberian winds and canadian winds, by sap freezing chills.

and i'm still here in limbo too, i'm still caught between being with you,i'm still waiting through those days, stretched out here ahead of us,'til you are close and we're wrapped, inside and so warm.

i'm very blocky. this was kinda ots, kinda not. i wrote it out in one without any revisions, but i did think about structure and things in advance. so yeah, its blocky and messy i guess but i thought i'd play with line lengths and things a little or something. i dunno. whatever. feel free to be mean. i think the meanness would be good, maybe. ahhh, who am i kidding, no-one will read this little postscript. if you are, more fool you.